Wavehouse

by Kaltman, Alice;

  Soon thereafter the beach was jammed. There were twice as many spectators as the day before, sitting on beach blankets and chairs, or standing in restless packs by the water’s edge. I’d managed to get through the first day of the tournament without any severe panic, but now the stakes were higher than ever. And all those people watching! I braced myself for the usual heart palpitations, shortness of breath, sweaty palms, and faintness, but they never came. Even though I wasn’t exactly comfortable, I wasn’t completely undone—at least not yet. A series of images ran like a slideshow through my head and I found them oddly motivating—Grandpa sick in bed, Gramma hovering over him like a fretful hen, and Sara hobbling around the shop on crutches. This surf competition was the only way I could help them all, the only way I could give back to those who had given so much to me.

  But just in case a sudden bout of Shy-Person-Type-B symptoms bubbled up, I avoided everyone, including Jimmy and Deanna. I found a spot between two dunes that kept me semi-hidden and waited for the damn contest to start. When 9 a.m. rolled around, everyone was getting restless. Finally, Craig got up on the podium.

  “Morning, surfers,” he said cheerily. “I’ve got some good news, and I’ve got some bad news.”

  The crowd rumbled.

  “The bad news is that Kevin Morrisey can’t be here today. He’s been called away on an emergency.”

  The crowd rumbled more.

  “But the good news is that that emergency is the birth of his fifth child, Rogan Ella, born at seven thirty this morning!”

  Everyone clapped and hoorayed for the Morrisey family’s good fortune. Even me.

  “And there’s more awesome news.”

  Everyone was quiet again.

  “Since Kevin can’t be here, we’ve found someone really special to take his place. Here he is, groms and gromettes, to gauge your moves, the one and only Ceekay!”

  Chris walked up to the podium and fist-bumped Craig. Then he turned and waved at the crowd. Instinctively, I ducked as his gaze traveled toward me, wedging my head as deeply between my knees as I could without breaking my neck. How is this possible? I thought. He’s not supposed to be here. He’s supposed to be off in Fiji with Inga Ward, breaking my heart. This was too much. Way too much.

  Finally the crowd stopped roaring. “Okay, then,” called Craig. “Let’s get this party started. First up, Girls Ages 15 to 18. Everyone down to the water!”

  I had a choice: I could either crawl on my knees through the sand to my bike and flee—no one, except Jimmy or Deanna, would ever know the difference—or I could stay, woman-up, and take my chances. The waves were breaking pretty far outside, and the entry point was some distance from the judges’ stand. Maybe, with my new hairdo, Chris wouldn’t recognize me. But more importantly, I had to decide whether his being there would unnerve me more than I was already unnerved. To wipe out in a humiliating finale would be the kiss of death. I had roughly two seconds to decide.

  I rose on weakened knees and walked unsteadily across the sand to join the others at the water’s edge. I took my place next to Kiara, who wore her hair in provocative pigtails, and a bikini bottom that barely covered her butt. Perhaps her porn star display will be a good distraction for Chris, I thought. It seemed he went for that kind of thing. Her hairdo and butt would be way more appealing than my baby poop crewcut and baggy board shorts.

  Kiara sneered at me as I hunkered low next to her. “Well, hello Spike. This is a surprise,” she said. “I thought it was girls only.”

  I wished I could say something barby in return, but Kiara’s jeering expression left me mute.

  “Give it a rest, Kiara,” sighed Deanna, standing on her other side. “Let’s just get out there and surf.”

  The bullhorn went off. I may not have been ready with a quick response for Kiara, but her bullying manner made me angry. And anger was a good motivator. Now I had something to prove, not just something to win. I paddled my ass off, more aggro than ever before in my life, careening past all the other surfers to make it outside first. Once there, I sat up on my board, chest heaving and out of breath. I willed myself not to look behind me, back at the shore, back at the crowds, back at Chris.

  The horizon was still, and I had a moment to catch my breath before the other girls arrived. Deanna paddled up next to me. “Holy shit. What are you, a cyborg? I’ve never seen anyone paddle that fast!” she laughed breathlessly.

  I tried to smile, but my face was as rigid as a pie pan.

  “You look freaked,” Deanna said. “Everything okay?”

  I gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Yeah, right. I shouldn’t probably tell you this, but you’ve set yourself up way too far east. It’s gonna break over there.” Deanna pointed to her right, where Kiara and Leah waited. “Guaranteed. This is my home break. I know it like I know the annoying mole on the side of my neck.” She lay back on her board and paddled away.

  Deanna was right. I could now see it coming. The first wave of the set was starting to form in a meaty, sweet blue hump. I poured the steam on, paddling madly again, this time to get closer to where it would break, but missed it by a long shot. Leah took it, popping up just as the wave squeezed upward to form a steep and challenging peak. The wave had such power and intensity that there wasn’t much more she could do other than nail her stance, and keep upright till the end. She managed to make it without any flourishes and would score some big points just for taking off on that sucker.

  Meanwhile, Kiara had been biding her time. She took the next wave, equally big but not quite as radical. This wave had a wider face and held up for longer, allowing for more maneuvers. Kiara barely had to paddle to catch it, before carving her way across the face of her wave with so much ease it was nauseating. As I watched her ace her way to the end, my chest deflated, flatter than flat, concave in total defeat.

  The last wave of the set could’ve been mine; I was set up for it, but my heart, mind, and body were in no way prepared. The whole tournament idea was now officially the worst idea I had had in my entire life—next to falling in love with Chris. I was so paralyzed with my own incompetence that I let Deanna have the wave. Right before she took off, she yelled at me. I figured she was thanking me for giving it to her. I watched her pass and wished her well.

  I looked back out at the horizon. Part of me thought, What’s the point? Kiara is gonna win this thing, and, in the meantime, Chris is here and my heart is in danger of bonafide exploding. But I couldn’t give up now, could I? It wasn’t in my nature to let either one of them—lover or nemesis—undo me so quickly. Or was it? Then it came for me. The one and only answer. A super sweet ginormous wave. Deanna had been coaching me, not thanking me when she passed. She had yelled, “Outside! A big one! Go for it!” And so I would. I instinctively turned to take this beauty. Part of me was completely stoked; the other part couldn’t believe I was doing this. I couldn’t stop myself from noticing the crowds on the shore. Just don’t look, I told myself. Do what you do best and when the time to pop up arrives, do what comes naturally.

  My beginning was somewhat shaky. I was too far forward on my board, and my rhythm was off. If I didn’t get it together soon, the ride would be a total bust, a waste, another embarrassment. I would nose-dive into oblivion. I got it together quickly and started feeling fine, back to my brand of normal. I went for the most stupendous bottom turn of my life, swooping down the face of the wave, riding there for a few seconds then flying back to the top in glory. I carved a few smaller arcs, thinking, Yes! Maybe I could do this thing after all.

  But I couldn’t help myself. I had to look at him. I could see the curly Wheaten Terrier mop of hair, the slightly stooped posture; the beautiful caramel-colored skin. He stood behind the judges table, while the others were still sitting. Even from this distance, I felt Chris staring at me. It took only a split second to destroy me.

  I tumbled off the end of the wave in a wipeout more su
ited to a Laurel and Hardy skit than a surf competition. My arms flailed, my feet skittered out beneath me, and my butt landed with a bang on my board. After that I was sucked down deep, where it was all white foam and deep blue shame.

  But my survival impulse was still pulsing. I pushed through to the surface and gasped for air. Now the decision was which way to paddle. Heading back outside seemed the safer option. Give myself more time to figure out how to deal with Chris—God, I still wanted him so badly; God, I hated him so much!—on top of the humiliation of my last move.

  “Nice ending, Spike,” Kiara called once we were all back outside. “That should cost you a few points.”

  “Whatever, bitch,” I snarled. Wow, I thought. I snarled!

  “What did you call me?” she paddled over.

  “Wave hog.” I couldn’t control myself. Something inside me opened up. I was like a dragon with an internal fireball gathering momentum, working its way up my gullet, then spewing out my mouth.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bitch and wave hog,” I said, very calmly. “Oh, and snake. You are the worst snake I have ever seen. You’re a real slimy, snaky wave stealer.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Close your fat trap of a mouth, Kiara,” I added. “Or all the evil fumes will escape and poison us humans.”

  “You’re such a loser,” Kiara spat. “In all ways. You are so out of your league here. You couldn’t surf your way out of a kiddie pool.”

  She might have been right. I wasn’t really sure how the rest of the contest was gonna go down. But something was already shifting in me. Something big. Already I was talking to strangers. Smiling. Staying put when I wanted to flee. Shy-Person-Type -B-hood was shedding off of my teen girl skin.

  “And you clearly have the intelligence of a flea,” I cried. It was the kind of thing Myra might say, and for a brief moment the memory of my former best friend made my dragon heart feel faint.

  The next set was upon us, and Kiara snaked her way around Deanna and Leah to nab the first wave. Once again she was close to perfect. But her bad sportsmanship was so blatant that it got my dragon up and going full force again.

  “You are evil incarnate!” I screamed as she sailed away.

  Deanna and Leah clapped. For me, not Kiara, which made me nervous and giggly but felt totally awesome. Then Deanna caught a nice eight footer, followed by Leah on a respectable six.

  Once again, I had waited till the bitter end. This time there was no surprise fourth wave, giving me less opportunity to score points, and even more time to fret over whether I wanted to keep competing at all. I fixed my eyes on the horizon, hoping for a sign.

  And then it came for me—a beautiful, perfect wave. A giant rogue. Ten feet at least, I thought. Holding up like a real regal queen. “Fuck, yes!” I yelled to no one and paddled to take it. I stood up easily and began surfing with complete and total abandon, having the time of my life. I was exactly where I had wanted to be, and from that moment on it was just me and the wave and our own glorious dance. My watery partner was blue bliss, easygoing but steep and fast. The rest of the world disappeared.

  I milked it to the max, my ride ending very close to shore where the rest of the world was waiting to undo me again. After my kick-out, the crowd on shore cheered for me. I felt my heart race, moving toward panic mode, as I treaded water.

  Then a boy’s voice called out, “Go for it, Anna!”

  Friggin’ Jimmy Flannigan. Couldn’t keep his mouth closed. Now everyone knew my real first name. And Chris would now know for sure what he already probably knew. I looked to the judges table and watched him try and leave—probably wanting to get as far away from me as possible—but Craig yanked him back.

  As if matters couldn’t get worse, or better, or more confusing, I saw Myra. She stood next to Jimmy with her silly cabbage hat plopped on top of her Brillo pad hair. What she did next was either the most brilliant or the cruelest thing she had done yet. She pointed at me and yelled at the top of her lungs, “It’s her! It’s the Surfing Siren!” And all of a sudden, all eyes were on me. Hundreds of eyes. I was bombarded with stares. And in that moment, frozen in fear, Sara’s advice came rushing to the fore:

  When you start getting nervous, you tend to let up on your back foot. Don’t do that. Dig in deeper with the back foot and take your shoulders back, too. Otherwise you get too much momentum and lose the sweet spot. You have a tendency, when you’re spooked, to ride it a hair too far forward.

  And more important than anything: Don’t let your demons get the best of you. Don’t be like me that way. Just go for it, okay?

  I turned back toward the outside. There was a set coming. If I were sane, I would grab my board and hold it steady. Or I could do more—I could go for it; no more demons; no more Shy Person Type B getting the best of me. I had a choice. I breathed deeply, hoisted myself on the board and paddled back outside like a lunatic, duck-diving under breaking waves that almost pummeled me to a pulp.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Talk about a glorious re-do. I surfed with delirious abandon. The next wave was a ticket to paradise. It swelled up right where I wanted it to, as if Neptune had delivered it to me on a sea-foam platter. I plunged deep into the trough, imagining that I was ten years old again and that this was my first tournament. I imagined a young Sara standing on the beach, hopeful, happy. Proud.

  I shifted directions and shot my way up the face of the wave to the very edge, skittering for a split second as if I were tap dancing on the lip, before heading downward again. I was all over my wave friend, up and down it as if I were a curvy, tickling feather.

  The wave after that was pure bliss. A hollower, lovely thing. An aquamarine cavern. I didn’t balk, or hesitate to experiment. I used my skill at stalling—maintaining my balance to get tubed—and hovered underneath the deep blue curl, running my fingers along the wave wall.

  Wave number four was the crowning jewel. The ultimate wave of the day. Ten feet high and majestic. This gorgeous wall of water was so spectacular that when I was on it, I was more transfixed by its beauty than I was by the action of surfing. While I flew, and carved, and stalled, and spun, my sense of connection and rightness were as powerful as the wave itself.

  When the bullhorn blew, signaling the end of the heat, I smiled like a demented fool and thought, Today’s fun may be over, but the real fun may have just begun.

  As we all paddled back in, Kiara couldn’t even look at me. She knew she didn’t stand a chance. Even with all her slippery aggro moves, I caught more waves fair and square, and surfed them better than she ever could. At the shoreline she stormed out of the water like an angry, sore loser.

  As I stumbled up the beach on wonderfully wobbly legs—an after-effect of an awesome surf session—I saw Myra next to Jimmy. She looked totally spooked, like she was waiting for me to lose it with her again, but my heart had softened. No way could I be mad at her anymore. I had just broken through a major wall, surfing my butt off in spectacular fashion in front of hundreds of people. I tried to make my way toward Myra, but as soon as my feet touched the sand I was bombarded by crowds of little kids hovering around me like I was Santa Claus giving out extra swag. Their parents wouldn’t leave me alone either. They were all pats on the back and handshakes, saying “good job,” “you’re amazing,” “what an inspiration,” and stuff like that.

  My newfound celebrity status was mildly uncomfortable. Unfortunately, surf success hadn’t suddenly transformed me into a totally chill and normal person. I smiled and thanked them all, but it still required effort. Myra made her way over to me, pushing her way through the crowds to finally arrive at my dripping wet side.

  “I’m sorry,” we said at exactly the same time, then laughed at our shared moment in our own unique way—Myra sounded like a hyena with hiccups, and I like an old man with smoker’s cough. We threw our arms around each other and both squeezed so tight
that I was certain we had broken a few ribs between us.

  “I’m getting you all wet,” I snuffled into the fuzz of her hair.

  “I couldn’t care less,” she snuffled back.

  “I said such mean things to you. You must hate my guts.”

  “Impossible. No hating guts ever. Plus, I wasn’t exactly the nicest person. We were both kinda bitchy.”

  “Thank you, Myra. I couldn’t have done this without you, you sneaky girl, you.”

  “Don’t thank me. It was all Anna Dugan out there.” Myra held me away from her so she could look me straight in the eye, which was hard because we were both crying happy, relieved tears. “And I’m telling you, girl, I have never—and I mean NEVER—seen you surf so well.”

  “This is gonna sound so super corny, but you of all people will get it,” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.

  “What?” Myra asked, wiping the tears from her own.

  “I feel like one of those butterflies that’s broken out of their stupid sticky, why-is-nature-so-cruel cocoons.”

  “Nature is a bitch.”

  “A total fucking skank,” I agreed.

  “But nature helped you rock out there on those waves. You were amazing.”

  “Aw, shucks,” I grinned. “I messed up a lot in the beginning, though. That could matter. But wait a minute, how did you even know I was here?”

  “I told her,” Jimmy said. He had also made his way through the crowds, picking little kids up under the armpits and moving them out of his path.

  “Huh?” I was shocked. “You?”

  “Yeah, me,” Jimmy said. “You guys are usually together all the time. I thought it was weird Myra wasn’t here at the tournament with you.”

  Myra shrugged and gave me a look that said, I’m as surprised by this as you are.

  Jimmy continued. “Plus, I don’t know if you realized it, but you were talking to yourself—well, actually to Myra—before your heat yesterday.”

  “That’s embarrassing,” I cringed.